


The Touch of a Friendly Hand

by colazitron



Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: Break Up, F/M, M/M, Post-Break Up, episode coda, the relationships are really only in the background, this is just Mia and then Matteo and Mia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 08:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20635979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: Mia wakes up the morning after her break-up with Alex not feeling particularly better than the night before.





	The Touch of a Friendly Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I'm mad at myself for a clip about Mia being the thing that inspired me so much I just HAD to write something too, okay? But here we are. I just found it peculiar that out of all people, Mia calls for Matteo when she comes home to the flatshare. So I had to write something. That's how this works, right? This is unbetaed and written in a swoop this morning so there is also that.
> 
> Anyway, Druck had their own ideas for this morning so I made it so that it can technically happen before Matteo's instagram stories. I hope you'll enjoy!

Victoria is still asleep when Mia wakes up.

Which makes sense given the gloomy light that falls into the room past the curtains, and how when Mia rolls over carefully to grab her phone, the numbers on its screen read 7:23. Mia's not sure what time it was when they drifted off to sleep, but she's pretty sure it was well after midnight.

Victoria looks like art next to her; her hair splayed on the pillow underneath her, the neckline of the shirt she slipped on to sleep pulled down in her sleep and revealing the swell of her breasts. Mia knows what the dip of her waist feels like too, though she can only guess at its shape now, hidden as it is under the soft duvet. She never really thought she had a type, be it boys or girls, but Victoria is undeniably gorgeous and waking up next to her, free to look at her, Mia wishes she felt anything.

There’s so much about Victoria to like, to be excited by. The way she danced into Mia’s room last night, the ridiculous things she says. She believes in freedom and summer? It’s like she jumped right out of a questionable manic-pixie-dream-girl rom com and into Mia’s bedroom. Only she seems to mostly be her own manic pixie and Mia really can’t fault anyone for living life as gleefully as they can.

Victoria is nice and funny and interesting and gorgeous and she wants to kiss Mia. Mia should want to kiss her back. Mia _ does _ want to kiss her back, but it’s like she can’t quite reach the part of her that feels it. Like she’s in a fog.

Last night, when their conversation petered out into them shifting closer together and Victoria put her hand on her face, pushed back her hair, Mia reached for that feeling and tried to hold on to it. She felt the soft, warm touch of Victoria’s lips, the way her breasts pressed against her own when she scooted even closer. The tangle of their tongues and the dip of her waist under Mia’s hand when she ran her hand down her side to rest it there.

It was nice and it should have felt good; Mia should have been able to soak her mind in wine and just enjoy this, but instead she made it no more than a handful of minutes into the kiss before she had to pull back and started crying again.

Victoria hadn’t seemed to mind, cooed at her and pulled her into a hug and pet her hair until she fell asleep, but now that Mia’s awake, she knows it won’t happen again. She wishes she could just spend her last few days in Berlin in the arms of a pretty girl, plaster than short-term joy over the ache in her chest, but she simply can’t.

So she sighs quietly and carefully scoots out of bed, tiptoeing over to the dresser to pull open a drawer where she’d crammed all her warmer clothes that she didn’t need in Madrid with her. She grabs a clean pair of jogging pants and a hoodie and then tiptoes out of the room, closing the door carefully behind her. In the living room, she digs a clean pair of knickers and a bralet out of her suitcase and makes her way to the bathroom.

The whole flat is still morning-still, the kind of quiet that only happens when everyone is asleep. Or maybe not at home in the first place. She glances down the corridor at the entrance door, and spots neither Matteo’s nor David’s shoes. They’re probably at his place then, and though Hans has got a collection of shoes by the door, that’s no indicator of whether he’s home or not. For all Mia knows he’s currently stumbling into a café with some friends for breakfast after they’ve been out all night. He might have stayed over with some of them. Maybe he found someone to hook up with.

In the bathroom, she doesn’t look at the mirror, just pulls off her clothes, brushed the tangles out of her hair, and gets in the shower. She cries a little under the water and feels like a cliché, makes herself stop and then grabs Hans’ face wash in a vain attempt at making herself feel like she can wash the memory of the tears on her cheeks off her face if she just uses enough water and soap. She washes her hair and tries not to think of anything, running a brush through it again when she’s gotten back out of the shower and towelled off enough to slip on her clothes.

It does make her feel a little better, feeling clean at least.

The flat is still quiet when she goes back to the living room to dump her clothes with her suitcase and dig out a pair of socks so her feet won’t get cold. It’s then that she remembers she left her phone in her-- Victoria’s room, and she doesn’t want to risk waking her by going back for it.

There are a couple books by the board games, and though they’re mostly Hans’ and mostly the kind he never even read, she grabs one and curls up on the sofa, opening it up to the first page. She just doesn’t want to be alone with her thoughts right now, and though Matteo’s laptop is on the coffee table, she’s sure he has it locked with a password. There’s just enough light by the window so she doesn’t have to turn on any lamps, which suits her just fine, and so she settles in to read.

She’s only about five pages deep into the book when a key jangles in the door, quiet footsteps following shortly after. There’s a soft thump and then another one, and then more footsteps. Mia stares at the door to the hallway and then--

“Matteo.”

Matteo looks up from where he’d been smiling at his phone, eyes going wide and face slacking in surprise.

“Mia,” he says. “You’re home.”

There’s a hesitant question nestled in the slight pinch of his brow, the tilt of his head.

Mia shrugs.

“So are you. And awake,” she says, aiming for teasing.

Matteo rolls his eyes and types something on his phone before slipping it into his pocket and looking back up at her.

“David’s going to see his godmother in Fürstenberg for the weekend. I dropped him off at the train station.”

Mia’s heart squeezes a little, her mind conjuring up soft kisses on a train platform. She’s seen them together often enough - even though less than any other of their friends - to have a very firm picture in her mind of how they are with each other.

She hums.

“What are you doing up?” he asks.

Mia’s heart squeezes more tightly and before she can do anything to stop it, her face follows suit, scrunching up while hot tears well up in her eyes. She can see Matteo’s eyes go wide with more surprise and concern and she brings her hand up to cover her mouth and shake her head. Distantly she thinks the way Matteo looks around the room like there’s anything that could get him out of this situation, anyone else who could handle it is a little funny, but like with her desire for Victoria, it’s a feeling she can’t quite reach.

Then Matteo’s eyes settle on her and he moves forward, sinking onto the sofa next to her and carefully reaching out a hand to her. He hesitates, unsure of how and where to touch her, but Mia just reaches back, grabs his hand and squeezes it, trying to hold her breath while her chest hiccoughs with sobs she doesn’t want to give into.

“What happened?” Matteo asks, voice quiet and gentle.

Mia shakes her head.

“Is it Alex? Are you okay?”

Mia shakes her head again and feels Matteo tense next to her, leaning closer so she can feel the solid warmth of him through both of their hoodies.

“We,” she tries to say, interrupting herself with another hiccough, “we broke up.”

“Oh,” Matteo says, and then nothing else for a few seconds before adding, “Do you want a hug?”

Mia nods, and as soon as she feels him shift and let go of her hand, she throws herself into his arms, burying her face in her hands and his chest, shutting out the world. He doesn’t hesitate now, holding her close and tight, one hand securely wrapped around her middle and the other one on the back of her head.

It only makes her cry harder, but that in turn makes him squeeze her a little and stroke his thumb over the back of her head. He doesn’t say anything, like she was sure he wouldn’t, but she doesn’t want him to say anything anyway. It’s why she’d hoped he’d be home last night; because Matteo understands the value of silence, of comfort given quietly. That there are things you can’t patch up with words, only with time. Sometimes you just need to be held.

Her sobs die down eventually, and it’s only then that she realises he’s rocking her a little. The shadow of a smile creeps on her face at that, smoothing it out a little, and she wipes her hands over her face, trying to get rid of the tears and snot on it without being quite so gross about it.

“Here,” Matteo says quietly, holding out a tissue to her. She’s not quite sure where he got it, but she blows her nose anyway, and then wipes the cuffs of her sleeves over her eyes and cheeks.

“Better?” Matteo asks, and Mia shrugs.

His arm slips up from her middle to her shoulders, squeezing her a little. “That’s okay.”

Mia sniffles again and settles in against him. The fabric of his hoodie is soft against her cheek.

“Can you stay a little?” she asks, voice feeling raw in her throat and too loud in the room even though she almost whispers.

“Yeah, of course,” he says.

She can feel him settle against the sofa, and shifts with him, getting comfortable with her head tucked onto his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her. The flat is still silent, though Mia doesn’t know what time it is by now. The room has gotten lighter with the coming day, but it’s a dull kind of light that speaks of an overcast day. It doesn’t particularly make Mia want to get out of this hazy fog she’s still in.

Matteo’s breathing is calm and soft where she can feel his chest expand with every breath, and the rhythm of it is so reliable it lulls her into the kind of calmness that makes her pay no attention at all to how much time passes as they sit there quietly. Eventually though, it gets too quiet, the silence creeping in on them and itching at the edges of her. She still doesn’t want to talk, but she doesn’t think she can sit in silence much longer either, tension creeping back in.

“Want to watch something?” Matteo asks then, gesturing vaguely too his laptop.

Mia sags with relief. “Yeah.”

“Okay, hang on,” Matteo says, detangling himself from her and leaning forward to pull the laptop closer, flipping open the lid. Just as she’d thought, he’s got it password protected, and Mia watches him type it in passively. His browser’s already open, Netflix loading as soon as he’s logged in.

“I found gay porn on your phone once, did you know?” she hears herself say.

Matteo freezes and then turns his head back to look at her, eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

“What?” he asks.

Mia feels herself grin a little. “Yeah. At that heroes party at the end of year eleven. You lent me your phone to make a call, remember?”

Matteo shrugs like he doesn’t really, face scrunching up a little.

“I meant to close the app after I called and your browser was still open too, and it was just… there,” she says and shrugs apologetically.

Matteo takes it in for a moment and then pulls his hands away from the keyboard, settling his elbows on his knees and looking back at her.

“You never said anything,” he says.

Mia shrugs. “It wasn’t my place.”

He considers it for a moment and then nods. “Well, thank you. For not saying anything.”

“I did tell Hanna,” Mia admits, grimacing a little.

Matteo blushes again and rubs a hand over his cheeks like he could wipe it off. Then he shrugs and tries on a grin. “That’s okay. I… wanted to tell her anyway.”

“Did you?” Mia asks, surprised. She never thought he’d wanted to tell anyone, before David.

“Yeah,” Matteo says and goes back to the laptop, scrolling through the options. He’s not asking her opinion, but she doesn’t think she has one right now either. Maybe if he puts on something especially stupid she’ll veto.

“She was always… nice. I was never worried she’d react badly. It was just hard. To actually say the words,” he goes on to explain.

Mia hums her agreement. It is hard.

Matteo seems to find something he likes, because he leans back against the sofa again, lifting his arm around her so she can snuggle up again. He’s chosen one of those nature documentaries, and they settle into silence again as the screen fills up with wide shots of forests and oceans and deserts. The volume is turned down far enough that they can still comfortably understand the English narration, but it doesn’t feel like an intrusion into their silence. She can feel his chest move with every even breath he takes.

Mia lets it lull her, and eventually she slips back into sleep.

**The End**


End file.
